Scrap CH THREE part 39

Scrap CH THREE part 39
Harry Tobin feels a bit guilty after hearing that Fat Frank had a visit from the Old Bill. He only mentioned to Beanpole Brett that he could use a distraction to keep them busy while the next consignment was being brought in and the next he knew Frank had been turned over. Goodness knows what Brett told them but it would have been an anonymous tip-off so he knows there will be no come-back on him. He has been trying to distance himself from the likes of Danny Casey and Olav Merck but people like them are hard to say no to and he is feeling under increasing pressure since Carol has been spending more time at home. ‘Little Tinkers’ has had to close due to poor sales and the house is choc-a-bloc with baby goods which Carol has been selling through small adverts in local shops and the weekly newspaper. Gradually the stuff is shifting but he is finding it more and more difficult to fob her off when she asks awkward questions. He needs to find her another hobby to keep her busy.
He is engrossed in the task of fitting new seals to the diesel pump on Jason Coward’s old Thames Trader tipper and jumps as Prince starts barking and pulling on his chain. ‘It’s only me,’ Jason calls out as he walks into the workshop, giving the dog a wide berth, ‘how’s the job going, only I need to shift some stuff they’re digging out over at the housing site.’ Harry mumbles something and comes out from under the bonnet wiping his hands on a rag. ‘All done, just got to bleed it through,’ he says, ‘got time for a brew?’ While he is finishing the job Jason makes tea and parks himself on one of the old car seats in the doorway where the late summer sunshine is warming his bones. The engine splutters a bit before roaring into life, Harry makes a few adjustments then pulls the stop button. ‘That’ll do the trick,’ he says as he drops the bonnet back in place and joins his friend.
Prince grunts and flops down on his bed, keeping a beady eye on the intruder and hoping that a biscuit will come his way. He can just about position himself in the sunlight if he creeps to the end of his chain but he can’t be bothered and makes do with warming his front paws. ‘You’ve kept this old beast going for years,’ observes Jason, ‘it was old when my dad bought it but why get rid when it still does the job? It’s good enough for site work.’ Carol has spotted them through the kitchen window and brings the biscuit tin. Prince springs to his feet, wagging his tail and manipulating his eyebrows in his curious pleading way. Carol smiles, opens the lid and throws him a piece of ginger biscuit, which goes down without hesitation, then offers the selection to the men, who each grab a handful from the Quality Street tin. ‘I’m going into town later with some stuff I’ve sold,’ she says as the lid goes tightly back in place, ‘do you need anything?’ Prince groans, throws himself to the floor and turns his back on the group. ‘Maybe get a bone from the butcher for Prince,’ grins Harry.
Jason finishes his tea, pays for the repair and drives away, wiping grease from the steering wheel as he goes. He feels particularly pleased with himself this morning after having the pleasure of his secretary all night and although he hasn’t had much sleep he feels bright and ready for a day’s work. Things are working out even better than he had hoped and it won’t be long before they have to buy more lorries and hire more drivers, but he will have to convince his partners first and they may be afraid of moving too quickly but he isn’t. The old ways are being forced out and he is ready and willing to bring in the new. People like Ken Chapman will resist every attempt to modernise but if they don’t join in they will lose out, especially when the ‘Spy in the Cab’ becomes compulsory and he can’t lean on his drivers to go over their hours. That will all have to stop and men like him will feel the difference if they can’t keep up.
Meanwhile Frank and Scotty are loading up with bananas to take to the ripening sheds. They can get three loads each in if they don’t stop for lunch and they have a little bet on for who will do the most runs. For once there will be no pilfering because even Fat Frank can’t stomach green bananas and Scotty can’t stand the things even when they are ripe. The stevedores are somewhat surprised that neither man has tried to swindle an extra pallet load today and they send them on their way as Ken’s driver Phil Henning draws onto the bank, scraping the front bumper as he does so.
Ken has had a difficult time of it since he got back from Spain. He had been so pleased with himself after setting up a deal to import certain substances and getting through customs without them detecting the large amount of cannabis resin he had hidden in his caravan, but the thought of all the money he would be raking in was soured by what awaited him. He had heard rumours that Frank and Jim were going into business but it still hit hard when he realised he had lost both his drivers and they were now in competition. On top of that he has been summoned by Pat to discuss what to do for their remaining son.
Lesley is not best pleased that his ex-wife is intruding in their lives and makes her feelings clear after Ken goes running off to her as soon as she whistles but he isn’t going to argue with her. He simply tells her it is none of her business, which goes down like a lead balloon.
‘Where is he then?’ Asks Ken as soon as Pat opens the door to the flat. He walks past into the small living room where Patrick is sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table watching television. He positions himself in front of the screen, his anger rising as the boy stares accusingly at him. ‘Well, what have you got to say for yourself? Look at the state of you; you look like a girl with your long hair and your flowery shirt. Where have you been and why didn’t you keep in touch?’
Pat pushes her son’s feet off the table and sits next to him. Ken turns round and switches the television off then stands waiting for an answer. ‘Why don’t you sit down and we can discuss this like adults,’ suggests Pat, as Ken’s face grows ever redder. ‘You called me over making it sound like an emergency,’ Ken shouts, ‘and I find him here lounging about with his feet up as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. Now what is going on?’
Patrick explains that he is going back to drama school at the end of the week and he needs some money to keep him going until he can find a part time job. ‘I’m quite prepared to pay my own way,’ Patrick assures his father, ‘but at the moment I’m a bit strapped for cash. You’ll get it back, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ Ken stares at his errant son, and then at Pat, who shrugs and folds her arms across her front. ‘So that’s all I’m any good for is it? I don’t have sight or sound of you for months then you turn up wanting me to bail you out.’ Patrick turns to his mother and smirks; ‘what did I tell you? He hasn’t changed a bit, he was never interested in me and he still couldn’t give a damn. Well don’t trouble yourself, I’ll make my own way thanks all the same and you’ll regret it one day because I won’t want anything to do with you either.’ And with that he picks up his jacket, stomps up the hall and out the flat, slamming the door behind him as a final insult.
Even Lesley is shocked when Ken almost bites her head off when he comes home. ‘I only asked if you wanted a cup of coffee,’ she shouts back at him, but he has disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door.